It
was
with
uncontained
happiness
that
I
received
from
Rachel,
my
sister
in
law,
borrowed
and
new,
the
book,
“Memories
of
Adriano”.
She,
a
constant
reader,
had
read
only
the
first
pages,
excusing
herself
for
the
lack
of
time,
for
a
so
detailed
subject,
so
repetitive
by
the
infinite
descriptions
of
Marguerite
Yourcenar.
She
said
that
she
would
read
it
at
a
later
date.
“Take
it
and
make
good
use
of
it,”she
said.
“The
dame
of
the
French
Academy
of
Literature
is
now
yours,
all
yours,”
she
added
with
malice.I
received
it
with
anticipated
gratitude
and
I
confessed
that
I
hadn’t
yet
bought
Memories
of
Adriano
because
it
way
above
the
house
of
three
digits,
really
too
much
for
me.
Not
for
lack
of
will,
because
I
had
already
been
long
anxious
to
read
it.
Finally,
it
was
because
of
this
book
that
Carlos
Drummond
de
Andrade
had
stayed
a
whole
week
at
home,
afraid
that
someone
in
the
street,
calling
him
a
“poor
old
man
that
hasn’t
yet
read
Memories
of
Adriano”.
That’s
right
really
poor
is
the
one
that
hasn’t
yet
read
Yourcenar’s
book.
This
one
is
poor
and
doesn’t
know
what
he’s
missing
out
on,
because
“Memories
of
Adriano”
which
is
not
taken
as
a
romance,
it
is
the
most
important
jewel
of
present
literature,
an
enchantment
of
work
done
with
the
tenderness
that
only
a
great
dame
of
the
French
Academy
of
Literature
could
have
done.
Little
does
it
matter
that
she
spent
so
many
year,
almost
thirty,
elaborating
and
polishing,
linking
facts
and
choosing
words,
living
and
reliving
atavism
of
the
best
era
of
the
splendor
of
Rome.
It
isn’t
easy
to
assume
the
role
of
Adriano,
to
have
the
conscience
of
Caesar,
be
a
God
and
a
man,
fighting
in
the
weaving
of
a
people
and
of
a
world,
at
the
same
time,
warrior,
politician
and
lover
of
each
face
of
live.
No
one
can
see
where
the
author
starts
and
the
character
ends,
once
that
only
Marguerite
would
have
such
immense
liberty
in
“being
in
the
shoes”
of
Adriano.
The
passion
for
Antinoos
is
above
all,
a
sentiment
of
the
female
soul.
I
have
always
been
enchanted
by
the
dynamism
of
the
Roman,
where
power
never
desprezou
culture
and
the
celebration
of
the
immortal
souls,
never
leaving
by
the
wayside
the
life
of
every
day.
A
world
of
patricians
and
plebian,
of
warriors
and
artists,
of
the
free
and
the
enslaved,
Rome
expanded
its
frontiers
with
a
feeling
of
global
unity,
transforming
barbarians
in
citizens,
showing
life
with
beauty
and
civility,
elaborating
laws
and
directives,
in
other
words,
taching
how
to
live
and
enjoy
life.
I
don’t
think
that
a
better
model
for
history
,
than
this
description
by
“the
great
dame
of
French
Literature”.
There
is
nothing
more
appropriate
to
show
a
reality.
A
physical
and
psychological
immersion
in
remoer
great
and
small
feelings,
a
momentary
improvisation
or
an
unconscient
preparedness
for
each
instant,
of
each
period.
Adriano
isn’t
satisfied
only
with
life,
he
feels
that
he
is
the
important
and
divine
piece
in
the
machinery
of
life.
He
is
the
owner
of
the
present
and
the
future,
because
a
simple
gesture
of
his
creates
cultures,
permitting
changes,
and
forging
consciences.
Even
though
he
was
all
this,
the
uncertainties,
the
search
of
affirmation
of
the
human
soul,
weak
and
fallivel
in
all
parts
and
at
all
the
time,
because
no
one
is
the
owner
of
life,
not
even
the
king
of
Rome.
I
became
richer
in
experience
and
love
after
I
read
“Memories
of
Adriano”.
I
believe
in
the
power
of
literature,
in
the
feeling
of
canalizing
moments
of
happiness,
uniting
centuries
in
a
fraction
of
a
second,
a
gift
